


What You Leave Behind

by intotheblue



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ghost!Merlin, M/M, On Hiatus, Seer!Arthur, Seer!Gaius, Seer!Gwaine, Seer!Gwen, Work In Progress, but not right now sorry, my b, seer!morgana, will return eventually I swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9549131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intotheblue/pseuds/intotheblue
Summary: Merlin is 143 years old, and a ghost. An actual, literal ghost. Arthur is 25, and decidedly not a ghost. And he doesn't much care for them, either. You see, when Arthur was 11 years old, he discovered something: like roughly 10% of the population, Arthur can see them. He can see ghosts. His father does not approve.





	1. Chapter 1

     As far as Arthur could say, ghosts pretty much looked like anyone else, bar their somewhat translucent skin, their strangely vibrant eyes, and the way they hover very slightly above everything. Arthur avoided them like the plague.  

     When Arthur's father, Uther, was young, there hadn't been ghosts - or rather, no one had been able to see the ghosts. It was a right shock when one in ten people spontaneously started interacting with things the other nine couldn't see. At first, most people assumed it was some sort of mass hysteria. Arthur’s father was amongst those who advocated that all of the afflicted be locked away. When it finally came to light that the 10% were not, in fact, insane, Uther was one of the first to suggest that speaking to the ghosts be illegal, insisting that they might be dangerous, or that they might be able to control a human host, given enough time to learn their patterns. This, of course, was utter and complete bollocks, but Uther said it so often, he began to believe it himself. Uther had to believe it, otherwise he’d be forced to face two very difficult facts: one, his own lack of Seeing ability meant that he would never again lay eyes on the wife he’d lost just after the 10% began to See; and two, that the woman who came up to him sobbing and insisting that he take his wife to the hospital  _now_  because a ghost told her Ygraine would otherwise die, the woman whose face Uther had laughed in,  _had_  actually known what was going to happen, and that the whole thing wasn't some sort of sick coincidence. Uther could not face these facts because, if he did, he’d have to acknowledge that he was, in some way, responsible for the death of the woman he loved so dearly. 

     All of this being true, the first time Arthur spoke of something Uther could not see, Uther told him unequivocally that it was not there, and that he should never speak such nonsense again. So Arthur didn't. Instead, he avoided them, wanting only to make his father proud. Any time he saw one, he would look through it like most of the others did and pretend he could not See. He knew that those who could See gave off some sort of aura that the ghosts could sense, but apparently there were enough enthusiastic Seers in the world that most ghosts ignored those who wished it. The thing about Arthur, though, was that part of him yearned to know more. Part of him wanted nothing more than to be one of the Seers who dedicated their lives towards helping the ghosts find their way on, or one of the ones who studied how the Shift had happened in the first place. Arthur wanted to understand what it was that made him different. Someone who wasn't the son of Uther Pendragon might have used the word ‘special’. 

     But Arthur  _was_  Uther’s, and whatever else he was, he was a good son. So he ignored the ghosts, and they, for the most part, ignored him. In fact, by the time a ghost didn't leave him alone, Arthur had quashed his curiosity so far down that he almost believed himself when he said ghosts were dangerous and that he absolutely had no desire whatsoever to be involved with them. Merlin disagreed. 

 

* * *

 

 

     Arthur stepped into his office at Pendragon LLC after what had been a truly grueling morning commute, wanting nothing more than coffee and to get to work. What he got, however, was a grinning ghost, hovering slightly over his desk, swinging his legs. Arthur nearly turned around and left then and there. Instead, he quickly shut his office door and glared at the intruder. 

     “Hello!” the ghost said cheerfully, apparently oblivious to Arthur’s death stare.  

     “What are you doing here?” Arthur asked, anger coloring his tone.  

     “Dunno,” the ghost shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood, and saw you walk in. Figured I'd introduce myself.” If at all possible, his grin grew wider.  

     “Get out,” Arthur said, gesturing at the door.  

     The ghost’s grin dropped. “Prat,” he said, crossing his arms but otherwise not moving. 

     “Excuse me?”  

     “You're. A. Prat.” The ghost said again, over-enunciating every word.  

     “ _You’re_  the one trespassing in  _my_ office!” The morning Arthur was having, this figured. He took a deep breath, and looked directly at the ghost on his desk. “Please,” he said, tone softening a little, “just… leave. I need to work.” 

     The ghost shrugged and stood. “Nice to meet you, Arthur.” He turned to leave. 

     “How-“ Arthur started. 

     The ghost turned back, grinned and said, “Your name’s on the door.” He stepped back through the wall and was gone.  

     Arthur groaned and dropped his head into his hands. After a moment, he glanced at his watch and sighed. No time for coffee now.  

 

     The rest of Arthur's day was significantly less eventful, but no less frustrating. His meeting with his father, which was  _supposed_  to be about the Rodor Nemeth acquisition, turned into Uther waxing poetic about how Morgana went to work for a rival company  _again_. His team was unsuccessful in sealing the contract with Essetir Industrial Supplies, and, to top it all off, he still hadn't had any coffee. So, when he went home that evening, he wanted to lay on couch, turn on the Weather Channel, and fall asleep. This, unfortunately for Arthur, was not what happened. 

     Arthur unlocked the door with one hand while he stared at the phone in his other. Morgana wanted him to go out that weekend (again) to be her wingman (again) and he needed to come up with an excuse. He opened his door and stepped inside, still not looking up. 

     "So how come you don't like me?" 

     Arthur did  _not_  jump. He didn't. "You!" He exclaimed, as in front of him was the same ghost from that morning.  

     "Yup!" The ghost said, popping the 'P'. 

     "What are you doing in my house? How do you even  _know_  this is my house?" Arthur practically yelled.  

     "You said you had to work this morning, so... I figured I'd say 'hi' later!" The ghost smiled brightly. 

     Arthur sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and decided to do exactly what he'd planned. He stalked over to his couch, flipped on the TV, lay down, and closed his eyes. He stalwartly ignored the ghost, even as he sensed it slowly drifting towards him. 

     "Arrrthuuuur," the ghost whispered. 

     Arthur ignored him.  

     "Arrrrrrrrrrthuuuuuuuuuuur," the ghost whispered again, closer.  

     Arthur ignored him again. 

     "Arrrr-"  

     Arthur's eyes flew open. The ghost was only a few inches from his face. "Jesus Christ!" He exclaimed, jumping back.  

     "No, I think that's someone else," the ghost replied cheekily. 

     Arthur threw his hands up and walked away from the ghost, towards his kitchen.  

     "You never answered my question," the ghost called after him.  

     Arthur spun around. "What? What do you want from me?" 

     "I wanna know why you don't like me!" 

     "Because you're a ghost!" Arthur yelled finally. 

     The ghost's near-glowing eyes narrowed. "You're a bigot  _and_ a prat," he accused. 

     "What?! No I'm not!" 

     "Then why don't you like ghosts?" 

     "Because you're dangerous!" 

     At that ghost started laughing, so hard he could barely catch his breath. "You- you think we- we're dangerous?" He exclaimed incredulously. Still laughing, he swung his hand at a nearby (expensive) vase. Arthur flinched, but the ghost's hand passed straight through. He waved it wildly, as if to further show how little damage he could do. "Next," the ghost said, wiping non-existent tears from his eyes. 

     "You can influence people," Arthur said weakly.  

     "Do you really think you'd still be insulting me if I could influence you?" 

     Arthur sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Dammit," he whispered. This is what Arthur had been trying to avoid his entire life. As long as he hadn't had any experiences contrary to his father's rhetoric, he could believe it, or at least pretend to. He was already pretty sure that this ghost wouldn't leave him alone until his entire world was crashing down around his shoulders. "Dammit," he said again, no louder than the first.  

     "You have a confused aura, Arthur," the ghost said, sympathy dripping from his words. 

     "Yeah?" 

     "Yeah." 

     The was a beat of silence. 

     "My name's Merlin, by the way," the ghost said.  

     "What kind of a name is _Mer_ lin?" Arthur asked, but it was to an empty room.  

     Arthur sighed again, suddenly even more tired than before. He went to his bedroom and lay down, but found himself unable to succumb to the embrace of sleep as thoughts swirled violently around his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello reader! I hope you enjoyed chapter 1; any feedback or kudos you might want to leave are greatly appreciated. Un-beta'd and un-Brit-picked, so you can blame me for the woeful lack of 'u's. I'm already done with the next few chapters, and plan on updating at least bi-weekly, maybe a little more, if I get ahead. Anyway, they're not super long chapters, but I hope you enjoy them!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Chapter 2, a bit early. I thought about leaving it to Sunday, but I'm way ahead of where I thought I'd be. Happy accidents :) Enjoy!

     Arthur awoke the next morning feeling as though he hadn't slept at all. He was unsure as to what time he'd finally fallen asleep, but last he checked it was nearly 3. The red numbers on his alarm clock seemed exceedingly bright in his dark room, and Arthur groaned. Though he longed to stay in bed just ten more minutes, he knew that if he fell back asleep now, he'd never get up. So he rolled until he felt his feet touch the floor, and then slid until he was more or less standing. 

     Half an hour and a small breakfast later, Arthur finally felt awake. He pulled on his trainers and left his flat, wanting to run out some of his tension from the night before. As sluggish as he felt, the crisp morning air and the rare peak of sunlight above him made him smile. With every step his worries seemed just a little farther away, and he thought maybe, just maybe, today would be an alright day.  

     He kept thinking that, right up until he got back to his flat, and saw Merlin loitering on his stoop. Arthur thought about running straight past, pretending like he never saw Merlin, and perhaps getting on a plane to Canada. Then, Merlin started waving like a madman, and Arthur figured that even if he did get on a plane, Merlin would probably follow him anyway.  

     Arthur sighed in resignation, and pulled out his key.  

     "Morning!" Merlin said brightly. "You're up awfully early, does that mean you're a morning person?" 

     "No," Arthur answered shortly. 

     "Ah," Merlin remarked, "I was a morning person, but I suppose you're more the work late and fall asleep as soon as you get home type." 

     Arthur grunted noncomittaly.  

     "Back in my day," Merlin rambled on, "We knew when to stop working. Nobody worked past dark – well, nobody who could afford to stop working, that is. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe it was just me. Except that-" 

     "Do you ever stop talking?" Arthur interrupted. 

     "Not much else to do," Merlin shrugged.  

     "Besides, 'back in my day', how old could you possibly be?" 

     "One hundred and forty three," Merlin answered confidently. Then his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. "Forty four?" 

     Arthur's jaw dropped. He'd never seen a ghost more than two or three years older than when they'd died. He'd never even heard of one more than ten years older. There were tales of ghosts that had been around 30 years when the Shift happened, but most of them had long since figured out their unfinished business and gone on. There were no tales, however, of any ghost that had ever stayed on this plane past the death of their last living acquaintance. Merlin couldn't have been more than twenty when he died. Some quick math told Arthur Merlin had been hanging around as a ghost for more than a hundred and twenty years. It was a wonder he hadn't gone mad. Perhaps he had.  

     "How is that- how is that even possible?" Arthur wondered aloud.  

     "Dunno," Merlin shrugged (he seemed to do that a lot). "I stopped worrying about it a few decades ago." 

     Arthur didn't really have anything to say to that, so he unlocked his door and stepped inside. He left it open for Merlin to follow through, despite the fact that: a) Merlin didn't need a door, and b) Arthur still didn’t really want the ghost around. Arthur felt- he didn't know. Bad for Merlin? Intrigued? 

     "Thanks, mate," Merlin said, stepping over the threshold. "People don't much bother holding the door for a ghost." 

     Arthur closed the door behind him and turned to face Merlin. 

     "Look," Arthur said, "I don't really have much, well, any experience helping ghosts find their way on-" 

     Merlin interrupted him with a light chuckle. "It's been a hundred and twenty three years, Arthur, I don't think anybody could help me. I'm happy just to have a decent conversation." 

     "And you picked me for that?" 

     "Admittedly, a dollop head like you seems an odd choice, but I was curious." 

     "Curious? Curious about- wait, a what?" 

     Merlin grinned impishly. "A dollop head!" 

     "That's not even a word!" Arthur sputtered. 

     "It is!" 

     "Define it," Arthur said, crossing his arms. 

     "In a word?" 

     Arthur nodded his assent.  

     "Arthur!" 

     "You're ridiculous." Arthur shook his head and walked farther into his flat. 

     "You would be too!" Merlin called, trailing after him.  

     Merlin was right, but there was no way in  _hell_  Arthur was going to tell him that.  

     Arthur strode into his kitchen a grabbed a bottle of water. He turned to Merlin. "Do you-" he began, gesturing at the fridge. Then he remembered. "Ah, no," he said sheepishly, "I guess not." 

     "Thanks for offering, though!" Merlin said cheerfully. 

     After a beat of silence, Arthur asked, "Do you miss it?" 

     "Miss what?" 

     "Being alive." 

     "Oh." 

     "Sorry," Arthur backtracked, "I shouldn't have asked that. You don't have to answer." 

     "No, no, it's okay," Merlin replied. His brow furrowed. "It's just that... I don't really remember it so well, these days. I mean... I remember my mother, and my best friend, but, not really the feeling of being alive. I don't remember the feeling of a heartbeat, or the need to breathe. I don't remember taste, or pain, or warmth. They're such indistinct sensations, you know? It's hard to replicate them when they're gone, even in your imagination." 

     Arthur stared at Merlin's indecipherable expression. On someone else, he might call it longing. On Merlin, though, that didn't quite seem to fit. He filed the image away for further consideration.  

     Arthur glanced at the clock and started violently. "Bugger! I have to get to work." He walked quickly towards his room, kicking off his trainers and pulling off his shirt as he went. He'd meant to shower before leaving, but he supposed baby wipes were going to have to do. As he was wiping down his chest, Merlin wandered in after him.  

     "Can I come with you?" Merlin asked.  

     "What, to work?" Arthur said, somewhat distractedly. 

     "Yes?" Somehow, Merlin made the answer sound like another question. 

     "It's not exactly Bring-Your-Ghost-To-Work Day, Merlin," Arthur replied, not really answering. 

     "C'mon," Merlin pleaded, "It's not like anybody else will see me. You're practically the only Seer in the entire company!" 

     Arthur sighed. "If I say no, will you come anyway?" 

     "Probably," Merlin grinned.  

     "Fine, then," Arthur said, shaking his head. He was going to regret this. When he looked over at Merlin's bright smile, however, he couldn't find it in himself to be upset.  

     Arthur ushered Merlin out of his bedroom so that he could quickly get dressed and shave. He toed into his shoes, grabbed his wallet, keys and briefcase, and was ready to go. It was only when he unlocked his car, Merlin at his heel, that Arthur realized the problem. "So, uh... how're you going to get to my office?" 

     Merlin looked at him, puzzled. "I thought I'd just... ride with you? Is that not okay?" 

     "Can you do that? The car won't just..." Arthur trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the car.  

     "What, leave me behind?" Merlin chuckled slightly. "No, that's not really how it works. I can explain on the way, if you like." 

     Arthur shook his head slightly as he got into the car. The more Merlin told him, the less he thought he knew. 

     Fifteen minutes later, they were stuck in traffic, and Merlin was still explaining.  

     "...So it's a bit like I'm in a dimension shifted very slightly away from yours. I can't really act on things in your dimension, unless I try really hard, and even then my effect is slight. The things in your dimension, however, like a car, or the ground, or gravity, can and do act on me. If I concentrate, I can keep some of them from affecting me, but not all of them, and not to the same degree." 

     Arthur tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. After a few contemplative moments he asked "Can you fly?" 

     Merlin laughed a little. "No, but I can jump off of really tall things." 

     Arthur snorted at that. "Yeah, well so can I." 

     "Ah," Merlin replied, "but I don't go  _splat_  at the bottom." 

     Arthur laughed at that, a genuine, throaty chuckle. "Fair enough, Merlin." 

     They spent the rest of the car ride chatting about inane things, Merlin telling Arthur about the coolest things he'd jumped off, Arthur telling Merlin the things he wanted to jump off. When they finally did reach their destination, Arthur had to admit (to himself, obviously, he'd never give Merlin the satisfaction) that the commute had been the most pleasant in recent memory, despite the extra traffic that was his penance for running late. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa! It's another update! Happy Superbowl Sunday to my fellow Americans! To the rest of you- happy regular Sunday?  
> Edit: Sad Superbowl Sunday- I'm a Falcons fan :'<  
> In other news, forgot to mention, but with the next update, I'll be changing the title of this fic, from "A Ghost of a Chance" to "What You leave Behind", so don't be super concerned when you see that!

     Merlin coming to work with Arthur became something of a habit in the following week. He was incredibly… distracting. As it turns out, there were exactly no other Seers in the building, so Merlin followed Arthur pretty much everywhere. The worst (best) were the meetings. Merlin would sit on the table and make faces at Arthur, or stand behind the person speaking and imitate them. He made sarcastic comments about nearly everything said, all in the hopes of making Arthur laugh. It was miserable (wonderful). After one particularly dry meeting, in which Arthur had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from laughing, he decided that enough was enough.  

     “Merlin,” he said, still chuckling, “you can't  _do_  that.” 

     “You think it's funny,” the ghost replied. 

     “Well that's the point, isn't it? You're going to get me in trouble!” 

     “Why do you even work here?” Merlin asked, picking at obviously non-existent lint on his sleeve. 

     That gave Arthur pause. “What?” 

     “Why do you work here?” Merlin repeated. “It's so dull, and there's so much else out there!” 

     Arthur felt his mind flash briefly to his younger dreams of being a Seer that helped ghosts, not avoided them. In an uncharacteristic gesture, Arthur shrugged. With no small amount of irony in his tone, he said, “It's my destiny, I suppose.” 

     “You were made for much greater things than this, Arthur,” Merlin said softly, the earnestness in his voice surprising Arthur.  

 

     Then, it was Saturday, and Arthur never did give Morgana an excuse as to why he couldn't be her wingman. He had, however, managed to talk her down from the trendy club she’d wanted to go to, to a local pub with a homey atmosphere and good drinks. 

     As Arthur dressed for the occasion, his thoughts drifted to the ghost sitting in his living room. Merlin was so, counter-intuitively, full of life. Arthur hadn't felt himself so eager to get up in the morning since the days when it was just he and Morgana, roaming the halls of their father’s estate. Arthur was far from isolated; he had plenty of friends, his coworkers respected him, and he’d even had a string of short-lived relationships (although, that last one, well, he didn't want to think about her). There was something about Merlin, though, that felt different. Maybe it was his near constant presence, or the way that his one mission in, er, death seemed to be to make Arthur laugh. Whatever it was, Arthur, though he was loath to admit it, enjoyed having Merlin in his life.  

     Arthur stepped out into the living room, still buttoning his shirt, and looked to Merlin. Merlin in turn seemed lost in thought, staring out the window at the passers-by below. Arthur cleared his throat, startling Merlin out of his reverie.  

     “Although, I'm fairly certain you’d follow me anyway, I thought I’d ask. Would you like to come with me to the pub, to see my sister?” Arthur found himself strangely anticipatory of Merlin’s answer. 

     “Actually,” Merlin said shrugging, “I thought I'd hop a plane to the Americas, wander over there for a while.” 

     Arthur felt his face fall. 

     Merlin broke into a grin. “Yes, you clot, I'll go to the pub with you and your sister.” 

     Arthur turned slightly red. “Uh, right then, I'll be ready to go in 15 minutes.” 

     As he retreated to his bedroom, he heard something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I knew you cared’.  

     He closed his door and leaned against it, wondering why he’d had such a visceral reaction to the thought of Merlin leaving, and at the startling relief he’d felt when he realized Merlin wasn't. He sighed (he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately) and finished getting ready.  

 

     Half an hour later, Merlin and Arthur arrived. As he held the door for Merlin, he felt himself relax a little. The Queen's Arms was his favorite pub, and, though he might've otherwise stayed in his flat this weekend, he always enjoyed the friendly  energy of this place. He glanced around until he saw Morgana, already nursing a pint of Guinness.  

     "Creative," Arthur remarked as he sat down, Merlin in tow. 

     Morgana was about to retort when she saw Arthur's companion. "Merlin!" She exclaimed, her face lighting with a smile.  

     "Morgana!" Merlin replied happily. He turned to Arthur. "You didn't tell me Morgana was your sister!" 

     Arthur looked back and forth between them. "You two know each other?" 

     Merlin shrugged. "I've met most of the Seers in the city; Morgana's one of my favorite, though!" 

     Arthur tried not to read into that.  

     "Well this is delightful!" Morgana said, clapping her hands together.  

     Arthur wasn't so sure. He felt... off balance, from this recent development. He could really put a name to the feeling, but Merlin was  _his_... friend? Guest? He shook his head slightly. Of course Merlin knew other people, he was 143 years old. He stood abruptly, cutting off the amicable chatter Merlin and Morgana were engaged in.  

     "I'm going to grab a pint," he declared, perhaps a bit too loudly. "Want anything?" He asked, directing the question at Morgana.  

     "I'm alright," Morgana said, gesturing at her three-quarters of the way filled glass. There was a peculiar expression on her face.  

     "Right then. I'll just... yeah." With that eloquent statement, Arthur left their table for the bar. Behind him, he heard his sister giggle at something Merlin said.  

     Admittedly, Arthur felt a little better once he was nearing the end of his first glass. By the time he got through his second, he was laughing along with Merlin as Morgana regaled them both with a tale of her last (disastrous) date. By the end of the night, even Arthur would admit it had been a good one, despite the somewhat inauspicious beginning.  

     After they said goodbye to Morgana, who lived in another part of town, Arthur and Merlin elected to walk back to Arthur's flat. The cold, early November air was sharp against Arthur's cheeks, and served to sober him up a little.  

     Arthur glanced at his walking companion who, uncharacteristically, hadn't said much since they left the pub. Arthur fought the urge to nudge Merlin, knowing that his elbow would go straight through the ghost, an unwelcome reminder of the strangeness of their relationship thus far.  

     "Penny?" Arthur asked.  

     "Hm?" Merlin replied, startled out of his musing. 

     "Penny," Arthur prompted again. "For your thoughts," he continued.  

     "Oh," Merlin said, seemingly collecting himself. "I was just thinking... I liked Morgana." 

     Arthur's brow furrowed. "O-kay?" 

     Merlin continued, oblivious to Arthur's commentary. "I liked Morgana," he repeated, "and I only stayed with her for a week. I only ever stay with a Seer for a week. Most I don't even stay that long." 

     Arthur heard blood rushing in his ears, and felt his heart beat against his chest so hard that surely, Merlin must hear it. Merlin looked at him melancholically.  

     "I don't want to leave you," Merlin said, so softly Arthur almost didn't hear.  

     Arthur felt a weight lift from his chest. "Then don't," he said, almost breathlessly. When he looked back on this moment, Arthur would blame the alcohol for the intense relief he felt in that moment. If he was being honest with himself, though, he knew it was something more than that. He just wasn't sure what yet.  

     Merlin still looked upset, though. "I can't," he said. "I shouldn't." 

     The vice around Arthur's throat returned. "Why?" He asked. 

     Merlin looked away. "You're alive," he said, directing his voice into the night. "You have friends and a sister and... eventually you'll forget about me. I'd rather leave before that happens. Then the memories... they don't hurt so badly." 

     If Arthur could grab Merlin's shoulders and spin him around, he would. Instead, he stepped in front of the ghost, forcing him to stop, lest he walk through him. "I couldn't forget someone as annoying as you," Arthur said, looking into Merlin's vibrantly blue eyes. He saw the slight smile in the way they crinkled. For the first time, Arthur noticed that, amongst the blue, there were small tendrils of violet.  

     "Stay," Arthur whispered. 'With me,' he added in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding this chapter: The Queen's Arms is a real place, but I know next to nothing about it. I looked up the richest neighborhoods in London (I figure Arthur would live in one of them) and picked a pub in Kensington with decent yelp reviews. If you're interested, their website is here: https://www.thequeensarmskensington.co.uk
> 
> Amusingly enough, they describe themselves as "a Kensington pub that's fit for a king." 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

     Merlin did stay. After a while, they fell into a sort of routine. Merlin followed Arthur to work everyday, staying mostly quiet, unless a meeting was particularly boring. Merlin stayed at home when Arthur went running, claiming he was allergic to exercising; Arthur was pretty sure Merlin just wanted to give him a little space everyday, for which he was grateful. It gave him time to think. The evenings, though, were Arthur's favorite. At night, he and Merlin would eat dinner together (well, Arthur would eat, Merlin would talk), or watch the history channel, during which Merlin would offer a running commentary of inaccuracies. Merlin would hover when Arthur did his laundry, or cooked, or cleaned, talking to Arthur about everything and nothing. On the weekends, they explored the city together, Merlin pointing out all the things that had been there even when he was alive, Arthur showing him bits and pieces of his childhood, the places that had shaped the person he was today. It was as happy as Arthur had ever been. 

     So, of course, something had to come along and ruin everything. That something's name was Uther Pendragon.  

     Uther decided to drop by unexpectedly one lazy Sunday afternoon, on which Merlin and Arthur had decided to stay at Arthur's flat. They were playing chess on the living room floor, the telly droning in the background providing a pleasant buzz of white noise. A sharp knock interrupted Arthur's concentration. He groaned and pushed himself off the floor, ready to tell whoever was there to kindly go away. When he opened the door to his father, however, he said nothing at all.  

     "Is it Morgana?" Merlin called hopefully. When Arthur said nothing, Merlin wandered into hall behind him.  

     "Hello, Father," Arthur finally choked out. 

     "Arthur," his father said, pushing past him into the flat, seemingly oblivious to Arthur's obvious discomfort.  

     Uther walked right past Merlin (actually, a bit through Merlin, who shuddered at the unexpected contact) and into the living room. "Playing chess with yourself, Arthur?" Uther chuckled.  

     "Just... brushing up on strategy," Arthur said, strain evident in his voice.  

     "Aren't you going to offer me something to drink?" Uther asked expectantly, a vague air of distaste about him. 

     Arthur finally tore himself from the place he'd been standing since his father made his appearance. "Of course, Father," he said stiffly. "I'm afraid I've only got water, though." He pulled a bottle from the fridge and set it in front of Uther. 

     Uther's face wrinkled slightly, and he said nothing.  

     "Are you really going to let him behave like that?" Merlin asked, incredulous at the way the confident man he'd come to know crumbled before his father's gaze. It wasn't like the business meetings Merlin had sat in on. In those, despite his father's presence, Arthur was as confident and sure of himself as ever, if a tad deferential.   

     Arthur ignored him again, addressing his father. "To what do I owe the... pleasure." 

     Uther ignored the hesitation and replied, "Do I need a reason to visit my son?" He spread his arms wide, as if to indicate what a magnanimous gesture it was for him to drop by like this.  

     "Of course not." Arthur looked at his bare feet, trying not to fidget.  

     "I do have one, though," Uther added, with a hearty chuckle.  

     Arthur forced a slight laugh, but it lacked all of the joy and body it usually contained. The sound made Merlin wince. Merlin stepped closer to Arthur, in solidarity, but still Arthur avoided looking at him.  

     After a few moments of silence, Uther continued. "I have a meeting with several MPs that I need you to attend with me. All three are up for re-election and looking to gain the young vote. I need you to show that young people support my sanctions on extra-normal entities." 

     "What!?" Merlin practically shrieked.  

     "Of course," Arthur replied calmly. 

     "You-  _of course_ , Arthur!" 

     "Fantastic," Uther said, nodding decisively. "With these three, we'll have the House of Commons." 

     "That's excellent, Father," Arthur replied, studiously avoiding Merlin's angry stare. 

     "Indeed," Uther agree. "Minister Shepard will be pleased." 

     Arthur nodded mutely.  

     "Leon will send you the details," Uther said, standing to leave. He left the bottle of water untouched on the counter. He strode to the door, but paused with his hand on the knob to turn and say, "Oh, and Arthur, your work's been slipping a bit lately. Be mindful." 

     With that, Uther left, taking with him much of the tension in Arthur's shoulders.  

     Arthur turned to Merlin, an apology on his tongue.  

     Merlin, however, beat him to the punch. "How  _could_  you!" He yelled, furious. "How could you just stand there and listen to him say that? How could you help him?" 

     "Merlin, I-" 

     "Shut. Up." Merlin practically growled. He was seething with anger. "I thought, Arthur, I thought that you cared about- about me, and the other ghosts. You know what the sanctions would mean, don't you? Of course you do, you practically wrote them yourself!" 

     "Merlin," Arthur tried again, "I didn't-" 

     "Didn't  _what_? Didn't mean to trample on my right to exist?" Merlin set his shoulders in a hard line, far from the his typical easy slouch. "Goodbye, Arthur," he said.  

     With that, he stepped through the wall, leaving Arthur dumbstruck, staring at the place he'd been. After a moment, he raced outside, intent on bringing Merlin back. But he was already gone. A cold feeling settled in Arthur's chest, one the he feared would be there for some time to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere apologies, for both the length of this chapter, and its contents. In other business, a disclaimer: I have very little (read: no) idea how the UK government goes about passing laws. I watched a short video on the parliament's website, but since this fic is not, in fact, about British law, I'm just going to take a few liberties. Finally, I want to thank everyone who've been leaving comments and kudos, especially those of you that have commented on multiple chapters; it really makes this whole process much easier, and, though I write for the joy of writing, seeing you're comments makes it even better. So thank you, and I hope this chapter wasn't overly upsetting!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! It has been one hellavu week (read: four exams and a major project, yay). But we're back with your regularly scheduled update- some good old-fashioned Arthur angst-ing. And, some new characters! Hope you enjoy :)

     The following day at work was entirely unproductive. Arthur spent the entirety of it staring out the window, hoping to see a shock of dark hair, or a pair of startlingly blue eyes. He saw neither, but continued to look, despite the fact that he'd spent the previous night traipsing around to every place he thought Merlin might have gone. It was useless, though. London was huge, and Merlin was literally a ghost. He could be anywhere.  

     During a meeting, Arthur felt himself reflexively looking towards the corner in which Merlin often sat. He wasn't there. Arthur was miserable. 

     The weather seemed to mock him. It was perhaps the most beautiful day a London December had ever seen, and all Arthur could think was that Merlin would love it. The unselfish part of him hoped that Merlin was enjoying it, somewhere. The rest of him wished Merlin was enjoying it with him.  

     Arthur barely understood it. He'd known Merlin only a few weeks, and yet he felt the ghost's absence as keenly as he would that of his right arm, were it suddenly shorn off. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten on before; he wasn't sure he wanted to. He only wanted Merlin back.  

     Arthur rested his head on his arms. With Merlin gone, he was getting even less work done than before. He considered going home early, something he hadn't done since two years before, when he'd contracted strep, and Leon had had to bodily drag him out. He sighed and decided against it. At least here, someone was liable to distract him. At home, the chess board was still out on the floor, and Arthur knew he wouldn't put it away. Somehow, that felt... final.  

     The days passed slowly. The nights dragged on even longer. By the end of the week, the hollow feeling in Arthur's chest hadn't receded at all, and he was surprised he hadn't yet pulled out his own hair. He spent all of Saturday morning staring at the wall, wishing Merlin would step through it. By the afternoon, he'd realized that he couldn't stay alone in his flat; he'd go mad.  

     Arthur pulled out his phone and dialed the first number that came to mind. The line connected, and Arthur heard a muffled yawn, and a groggy, "Hello?" 

     Arthur shook his head. Another time, he might've laughed. "It's nearly 3, Gwaine, you're still asleep?" 

     "Well not  _anymore_ ," the other man replied grumpily. After a moment's pause, he said, "Wait, Arthur? I haven't heard from you in a month, mate! I thought you died!" 

     "Thanks for checking up on me, then," Arthur groused.  

     Gwaine made a noise that was the verbal equivalent of a shrug. "I figured somebody would'a told me 'ventually." 

     Arthur rolled his eyes. "Look, you want to grab a drink with the guys tonight?" He could almost hear Gwaine's eyes narrow. 

     "You never suggest drinks," he said accusingly, " _You_  always think we should go do something  _active_." Gwaine said the word 'active' with as much distaste as someone describing diving in a septic tank. 

     Arthur sucked in a breath. "Yeah, well, maybe I need one," he replied. "Or ten," he muttered under his breath. 

     "Say no more! I'll get everyone else together. Then you can tell us your woes."  

     Gwaine hung up, once again leaving Arthur alone in his silent apartment. A couple of minutes later, he received a text with a time and place. Arthur scrubbed his hands over his eyes, and wondered how bad it would be if he started drinking a little early.  

 

     Arthur reflected briefly on the faces around him. There was Leon, whom he had know since he was a child, and who also worked for his father's company. Also present was Elyan, the brother of Morgana's best friend, Gwen. He'd met Lance, too, through his sister, when Morgana brought him to a party to meet Gwen. That'd worked out so well that the two were still dating, and nearly everyone in the group was sure they'd get married; Gwaine was running a pool on when Lance would pop the question. Along with Lance came Percival, who didn't say much (except when he did), and who absolutely refused to go by Percy. Finally, there was Gwaine, whom Arthur had met (appropriately enough) at a bar, when he'd gotten into a fight with some wanker who'd tried to slip something into a girl's drink. Ever since then, Gwaine had had Arthur's back, something for which he was grateful. 

     Arthur was pulled from his reverie when a waitress placed six pints on the round bar table. "Alright, then," Gwaine said, lifting his own glass, "let's here your troubles." He tipped the glass towards Arthur, then took a hearty swig.  

     Arthur sipped at his own drink before sighing and putting it down. He stared resolutely at the table and said, "I have made a right mess of things." 

     "It can't be all bad," Lance, ever sympathetic, said. 

     "It really can be," Arthur replied. He groaned and rubbed a hand across his face. "It was great," he said, "nearly perfect, actually, and then my  _father_  showed up and I-"  

     Gwaine who'd winced at the mention of Uther, held a hand up to stop Arthur. "If this is about him," Gwaine said, "You're going to need to be at  _least_  halfway through your second to tell it right." 

     Arthur could help but agree. Two pints later, and a few sips into his third, Arthur spilled it all.  

     "I met this bloke- well, I say bloke, he's a ghost." 

     "Shit," Leon whispered, knowing better than any at the table, save Arthur, how Uther felt about such things. Elyan nudged him in an unmistakable gesture of  _shut up, I want to hear the rest of this_. 

     "And we, I don't know, he's just been hanging around, you know, and I guess I got used to him and..." Arthur trailed off, staring miserably into a drink.  

     "So you banged a ghost," Gwaine suggested, waggling his eyebrows in an altogether  _not_  discrete sort of way.  

     Percival elbowed him hard in the ribs. 

     "Ow," Gwaine complained, rubbing the spot he was sure would bruise.  

     Lance sent him a withering look.  

     "It wasn't like that," Arthur said. "We were friends, I think." He winced at his own use of the past tense.  

     "What happened?" Lance asked. 

     "My father came by, wanted me to go convince some MPs that young people are in favor of the sanctions. And I... I  _agreed_ , right in front of him. Worse, I said it was fantastic that he almost had the House of Commons.  _Fantastic_. You should have seen the look on Merlin's face." Arthur dropped his head into his hands, the epitome of self loathing.  

     "Wait," Gwaine said, "Merlin? As in the happy-go-lucky, hundred and some-odd year old ghost? That Merlin?" 

     Arthur looked up and met Gwaine's eyes with confusion. "How do you know him?" 

     "Practically every Seer in the city knows Merlin." 

     "Apparently," Arthur said darkly.  

     "Mate, I don't mean to undermine your struggle-" 

     "I didn't know he knew words that big," Elyan whispered to Percival, who cracked a small smile that was equivalent, for him, to a loud guffaw.  

     "-but Merlin," Gwaine continued, "leaves everyone after a week. Are you sure it wasn't just... time for him to move on?" 

     "He's been with me more than a month," Arthur said miserably. "Said he didn’t want to go." 

     Gwaine's eyes turned sad at that. "Fuck," he said softly.  

     Arthur stood, looking as though he was weighed down by the same aches and pains of a much older man. "I think I'm just gonna head home. Thanks for this," Arthur said, gesturing at the group, and looking, for the life of him, like he didn't mean it.  

     As he turned to leave, Leon caught his wrist. "Arthur..." he hesitated a moment, trying to find the right words. "I work for your father but... I'm loyal to you. Perhaps it's about time you were loyal to yourself." Leon let go of Arthur's wrist, but held his gaze a few moments longer.  

     Arthur nodded slightly, but left nonetheless. The last thing he heard, as he pushed open the door leading out into the frigid night, was Gwaine's sympathetic, "Poor sod." 

     It was December now, and cold. Arthur felt it through his thick coat, right down to the marrow of his bones. As the bite of the wind on his cheeks sobered him up, he began to turn Leon's words over in his head.  _Loyal to himself_. By the time Arthur reached his flat, he'd realized that he never had been. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is maybe my favorite chapter so far, so I hope you'll enjoy it too! A few disclaimers at the end.

     Arthur adjusted his tie nervously. He told himself that this meeting was like any other, but unfortunately lying, even to himself, was not one of Arthur's strong suits. He looked in the mirror one last time, then took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead.  _It'll be_ _fine_ , he told himself.Arthur wished he was a good liar.  

     Fortunately, he was driving his own car to the meeting with the PMs, rather than riding with his father. He was absolutely certain that, had he been forced to maintain idle conversation, Uther would have seen through him in an instant. His intentions though... they were right. They had to be. Arthur just wished it felt that way. 

 

     "Mr. Abbott, Ms. Kane, lovely to meet you. And, of course, Mr. Fatchett, wonderful to see you again." Uther had put on his most charming smile, and his voice dripped with charisma. It was easy to understand why he so oft got what he wanted. "This is my son, Arthur." 

     Arthur flashed a tight smile, shaking the hand that was offered to him.  

     "Let's begin, shall we?" Fatchett said, "I have a meeting at noon that I cannot be late for." 

     "Of course," Uther replied, wolf-like smile still adorning his features. "I'll endeavor to take as little of your time as possible." 

     Arthur swallowed and resisted the urge to loosen his tie. He counted to four in his head, then sat down. He tuned out most of the meeting, waiting for his father to inevitably turn to him and ask for his own, regurgitated opinion. When the time finally did come, he found himself nearly at a loss for words.  

     "Arthur," Uther said, "why don't you discuss how your generation feels about our proposed sanctions."  

     "Right," he said, throat inexplicably dry, "well..." He trailed off, and then, to buy himself a few moments to gather his thoughts under the expectant gazes of his father and the MPs, he took a sip of water. "Right," he said again, this time more firmly. "The young vote is not in favor of these sanctions." 

     "Arthur-" Uther began, outraged betrayal clear in his voice.  

     Once Arthur had started, however, it seemed as though he could not stop. He continued to speak over Uther, saying, "We cannot abide by this sort of discrimination in our society. We, as a people, have come leaps and bounds in the last century, and we cannot and will not stagnate here. The Seers did not chose to See. Heaven knows, I didn't." 

     Uther sucked in a breath at this statement, and his expression hardened.  

     Arthur continued. "To ask Seers to ignore the ghosts is to ask anyone to ignore their ability to hear or to feel. The ghosts- they aren't just some mysterious, unknown entities, they're  _people_ , people who've died, but left something behind. They aren't dangerous, they can't even interact with our plane. All they want is to move on, and why should we ignore that? How can we? The vast majority of Seers chose to help the ghosts, because they've already realized this. I'm ashamed to admit that I was not among that majority, until I met a ghost that changed my mind. The sanctions are unnecessary and unjust, and I can assure you: passing them will not stop people from Seeing, but  _will_  hurt your chances of re-election." 

     Arthur sat back in his chair, some of the tension in his shoulders fading. Uther only stared at him, the fury in his expression palpable. The silence in the room was long and thick, until, at last, MP Kane broke it.  

     She pulled her glasses from her face and pinched the bridge of her nose, as if fighting a tension headache. She addressed Uther. "I tend to agree with your son, Mr. Pendragon. I'm afraid I will not be assisting you with the passage of this bill, and I will be encouraging my party to vote with me. A law such as this... It chains us all." 

     Fatchett rubbed his hands together nervously. "Uther..." he began, trailing off under the heat of the other man's gaze. "With the elections this May... I'm sorry, but I cannot back you." 

     "I concur," Abbott agreed shortly.  

     Uther stood abruptly. "Thank you all for your time," he seethed. "Arthur!" 

     Arthur winced at the sharpness of his father's voice, and did not miss the sympathetic look Kane shot him. He stood, nodded at each of the MPs in turn, then followed his father out of the building, and on to the sidewalk.  

     Once outside, Uther rounded on him. "How  _dare_  you," he spat.  

     Arthur couldn't help but remember when Uther had said the same words to Morgana.  

 

_"How dare you," Uther sneered, "You know what those_   _things have cost me. You are guest in my house, and you will not collude with those creatures."_  

_Morgana, never one to be cowed_ _,_ _spat back, "You-_ you  _are the creature, Uther Pendragon." With that, she stormed out._  

_Arthur, who'd been listening from the next room, watched her hail the first cab that went by. He wondered if he'd ever see her again._  

 

     Arthur tried to channel some of Morgana's fire, if not her angry, unmeasured tone when he said, "Father, I could not stand idly by whilst you-" 

     "You've been consorting with them, let yourself be influenced by them. After all the warnings I gave you, after everything I did to keep you safe." 

     "Father!" Arthur's tone was now no less angry than Uther's.  

     Uther turned away from him. "You are no son of mine." 

     Arthur just stood there, stunned into silence. All he could think was,  _now you've lost both of your children_. 

 

     The next morning, Arthur knocked on Morgana's door. His car (thankfully purchased in his name) sat behind him on the curb, filled with everything that was his. As it turns out, Arthur didn't actually own very much. Nearly all of his furniture belonged, in title, to Uther. Beyond that, he had his clothes, his chess set, a few books, and the bits and pieces of life he'd picked up along the way. It was enough to fill his car, but not so much that he'd had to leave anything behind.  

     Morgana opened the door, hair in a messy bun, toothbrush in her mouth. "Ar-fur?" She asked around it. She opened the door wider, gesturing that he come in. She pulled the toothbrush from her mouth. "No offense, but what are you doing here?" She glanced at the clock. "Shouldn't you be at work?" 

     "Dear old Dad's fired me and disowned me in one fell swoop." 

     Morgana's eyes darkened at the mention of their father. "That- that-" Anger ozzed from her pores, leaving her unable to string together a sentence.  

     Arthur held up a hand, forestalling her rant. "It's- it's actually okay, Morgana. Better, maybe. And I'm alright. I have plenty of money saved in my own accounts, and other companies have been trying to poach me since I got out of Uni. I'll probably get a raise out of this." He chuckled softly at that, before continuing. "It's just that the flat was in father's name, and he gave me until this morning to get out. So, I was wondering-" 

     "Of course you can stay with me, Arthur." 

     "Just until I get my own place sorted. " 

     Morgana flung her arms around him. "I'm not sure what you did," she murmured in his ear, "but I'm so proud of you." 

     Arthur felt himself smile, despite everything, and a warm chuckle bubbled up from his chest. When Morgana finally ended the hug, he ran a hand through his hair and looked at the ceiling. "I can't believe I did it," Arthur said, hearing the wonder in his own voice. "I finally- I was loyal to myself." 

     "You've been talking to Leon to much," Morgana smirked. 

     Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Since when do  _you_  talk to Leon?"  

     Morgana raised a brow but said nothing.  

     After a few moments of staring, Morgana led him into the kitchen. She sat him down and busied herself making tea. "Now, why don't you tell me what happened." 

     Arthur recounted the meeting. "The funny thing is," he said, "when it was all over, when I'd said my bit, It just felt... right. It's like, I always knew father was wrong, but before-" Arthur hesitated at the ghost's name, but forged on, "before Merlin, I didn't have a reason to challenge him, not really. Now I can't imagine staying silent." Arthur laughed ruefully.  

     Morgana could see the sadness in his eyes when he said, "All that for someone I suppose I'll never see again." 

     "Don't think I'm that easy to get rid of." 

     Arthur whipped around at the familiar voice. "Merlin," he breathed. If it had been possible, Arthur would have thrown his arms around the ghost, and never let go. 

     "In the- well, not flesh." Merlin grinned, and it was like color flowing back into Arthur's world. "You did all of that, for me? Went against your father?" Merlin's voice was uncharacteristically soft, shy, even.  

     "I can hardly believe it myself," Arthur said sarcastically. What he meant was, ' _For you, anything_ '.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer 1: I still have basically no idea how UK politics works, but I assume your elected officials care as much about re-election as ours do.  
> Disclaimer 2: I picked out the MP names from a list of actual MPs, mostly so they wouldn't sound completely made up. That said, the names were chosen more or less arbitrarily, and have absolutely nothing to do with the actual people who hold them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a brief time jump here (like a weekish, maybe). Enjoy!

     Merlin sat on the kitchen counter in Arthur's new flat, watching him (attempt to) put together a small couch from IKEA. The ghost had been suppressing his laughter, right up until Arthur dropped a screw and cursed. 

     "Must be lovely, to just sit there and watch," Arthur said, glaring at him.  

     "Not my fault," Merlin replied with a shrug.  

     Arthur groaned and sat back against the wall. "It looked so simple in the instructions," he moaned.  

     Merlin jumped down from the counter and walked over to where Arthur was sitting. "You could... oh, I don't know, take a break?" He suggested, adding a cheeky smile for good measure.  

     "Well if I don't do it, who's gonna?" Arthur complained.  

     "C'mon," Merlin said, standing back up. 

     Arthur stood too. "Where are we going?" he asked.  

     "You'll see," the ghost hummed. He stepped through the door without looking back.  

     Arthur blew out a breath, then grabbed his new keys and toed into his shoes. He shrugged on a coat, put his wallet in the pocket, and walked out the door.  

     "Took you long enough," Merlin said, after Arthur locked the door.  

     "It was two minutes," Arthur huffed.  

     Merlin snorted, and Arthur betrayed himself with a smile.  

     They walked, Merlin occasionally directing Arthur, until, after a while, he recognized where they were.  

     "The park where I used to run?" Arthur asked. 

     Merlin made a noncommittal noise and continued leading.  

     Arthur shrugged, content, for once in his life, to follow. 

     Eventually, Merlin stopped in front of a bench and sat. Arthur joined him. 

     "You know," Arthur remarked, "we walked past eight other perfectly good benches." 

     "Ah," Merlin said, "but this one has the least splinters." 

     "You can't get splinters," Arthur snorted, turning to face the ghost.  

     A woman walking nearby gave him an odd look, as he apparently bantered with the air next to him, but Arthur didn't mind. At first, he'd been self conscious speaking to Merlin in public; these days, though, he simply felt bad for those who couldn't enjoy the company of his ghost.  

     Merlin said nothing for a while, apparently contemplative. Arthur couldn't find it in himself to complain, enjoying the sun on his face and the faint white noise drifting in from the city that surrounded their patch of green. 

     Fifteen minutes passed, perhaps longer, before Merlin finally broke the silence. "I lied to you," he said simply.  

     Arthur looked at him quizzically. "You- what?" He asked. There was no anger in his voice, only genuine confusion.  

     "When I first met you," Merlin elaborated, "I lied." He slowly enunciated each word, as if they were physically painful to utter. 

     "About what?" 

     Merlin grimaced. "When I met you, I said that I'd just seen you and decided to pop in. That wasn't true." He paused and took a deep breath. 

     "Merlin, I-" the ghost held up a hand to forestall Arthur.  

     "Just... let me get this out, okay?" 

     Arthur nodded his assent.  

     "Before I met you, I... watched you, for awhile. I'd sit at this bench when I knew you'd be running. The first time, I really did just happen to see you." Merlin broke off his narrative and made eye contact with Arthur. "Do you remember what I said, that first night, before I left?" 

     "That I was a prat?" Arthur replied, cracking a smile, despite Merlin's air of solemnity.  

     Merlin smiled faintly in return. "That your aura was confused," he replied gently. "You project- or rather  _projected_ \- a great big red aura of 'stay away'. I imagine that, before me, no other ghost ever approached you." 

     Arthur swallowed and nodded.  

     Merlin continued. "But, the first time I saw you, I thought I saw something underneath the red. A flash of  _something_ , so quick that I couldn't be sure what. I doubt any other ghost could have seen it, not unless they'd seen as many auras as I have. Most people don't- er, that is, most Seers are surrounded by one thing, one color that tells us a little of what to expect. It's not bound to emotions, and it doesn't usually change. But you- I needed to know if what I saw was really there. So I hung around, waiting for you to come back.  

     "Fortunately for me,  _you_  have a ridiculously rigid schedule. The next time I saw you, I saw the same flash. It was so small, and buried so deep beneath all of the red, but I saw purple- longing, it seemed, for someone to ignore all of that red. Then, you were gone, and I told myself that the next time I saw you, I'd be that someone. And then the next time, I saw gold. Before you, Arthur, I'd never seen gold in someone's aura, but tendrils of it twisted all around you. It was – is – breathtaking. It's like, like liquid  _love_ , and it just pours out of you. And I wondered how you could possibly keep up all of that red, when it was so clear what kind of a person you were. 

     "So I kept watching, and the more I looked, the more I could see. I saw more colors than you can possibly imagine, colors that I have no words for, and I thought that maybe,  _maybe_ , this is what it was like to peer into someone's soul. And yours, Arthur, is so beautiful." 

     Merlin stared earnestly into Arthur's eyes. He suddenly felt, very, very naked. He said nothing, but didn't look away. After a moment, Merlin spoke again. 

     "Seeing everything you are was addicting, so I made myself part of your life. And, when I left, it wasn't because of what you said- or, not _just_  what you said. When I left, the red had consumed you, and I just- I couldn't-" Merlin looked away. Were he still alive, there might be tears stinging the corners of his eyes. "I couldn't bear the thought of watching you succumb to that." He paused, then whispered, "I'm sorry." 

     "Then why..." Arthur trailed off at a loss for words.  

     "It's gone, Arthur. The red is just... not there anymore. You- I don't know how, but it's like you took all of the fear and the anger and – and you just let it go. You're- in all of my existence, I've never met someone like you." 

     Arthur was nothing short of awestruck at Merlin's words. "You..." He began softly, but he didn't know what to say.  

     Merlin stood. "I'd understand if you wanted me to leave." His voice was stiff, entirely from the wonder Arthur had heard when Merlin described his  _soul_.  

     "Don't," Arthur said, standing too. "Don't ever leave or change or anything. You're-"  _incredible, amazing, perfect, mine,_  "-Merlin." 

     The ghost seemed to hear the unsaid words and smiled, wider and more genuine than Arthur had ever seen. He wished to god he could kiss Merlin, but instead settled for tracing the violet strands in his eyes with his own.  

     In that instant, unbeknownst to Arthur, his entire body was bathed in gold. It was resplendent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! If you haven't noticed, I read and reply to every single comment, so I'd love to hear your feedback! Also, if you're interested, I posted a little one shot for Valentine's day - I'd love for you to check it out!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think I forgot about you? Nah, just watching the home team kick butt at the season opener. Hope you enjoy this chapter! As always, I'd love to hear your feedback!

     To say that nothing changed after that day in the park would be incorrect. It was subtle, though, the way Arthur's gaze lingered just a moment longer, the way Merlin stayed nearby until long after Arthur was asleep, and was back before he awoke. Arthur would occasionally catch himself staring at his reflection, trying to see something of what Merlin described. Most of all, though, was the difference in the way they spoke. Any barriers that had been there were gone now.  

     Morgana could see it. She kept her eyes on them, as she flitted from guest to guest, exchanging pleasantries and warm holiday wishes. She saw it in the way that Arthur unconsciously spoke almost exclusively to other Seers when Merlin was around (which was always) so that the ghost wouldn't feel left out. She almost laughed aloud when she saw Lance trying to follow the conversation between Gwen, her brother, and the ghost. It was good, she thought. They'd both been through a lot, and they both seemed to have come out the other side better for it. They deserved each other.  

 

     Arthur saw Gwen smile over his shoulder, right around the same time he felt eyes burning into the back of his head. He turned and saw Morgana, who shot him a broad grin, then turned back to her other guests. Arthur shrugged and looked back at his friends. Merlin was telling Gwen about the time he'd accidentally gotten on the wrong boat and ended up in America, which,  _honestly_ , Arthur still wasn't sure how he'd managed that. 

     "-and, mind you, this was before commercial airlines existed, so once I was there, it'd have been at least two weeks to get back. So, I decided to stay awhile. And that's how I met Mark Twain." 

     "He was a Seer?" Gwen asked excitedly. 

     "Nope, he was dead," Merlin replied. 

     Gwen's mouth formed a perfect 'o' of surprise, in response to which Arthur laughed. It was loud and free, and Gwen couldn’t find it in herself to be bothered by the fact that it was at her expense.  

     "Really, though," Merlin continued, "He was quite alright with the whole thing. Said he'd been quite sure Halley's comet would be his end. Actually, he was more than a bit surprised that he wasn't quite gone." 

     "Then what happened?" Gwen asked, enthralled.  

     "We hung out for a bit." Merlin shrugged. "I think he only liked me for my name. Did you know he once wrote a book about an American time-traveling to Camelot?" 

     Gwen laughed and so did Arthur.  

     The rest of Morgana's Christmas party passed in a blur of fun and alcohol. By the time midnight rolled around, only Arthur, Merlin, Gwen, Lance, Morgana, and Leon remained.  

     (And hadn't that been a surprise. Arthur still shuddered at the memory. He'd been alone in Morgana's kitchen, early, the second morning he'd stayed with her, when someone else wandered in. He turned, ready to see Morgana or Merlin, but instead was greeted by Leon, hair dripping and clad in nothing but a towel.  

     His chest flushed bright red. "I, uh, thought you'd still be asleep," he said, shifting his weight awkwardly. 

     "Leon?" Arthur asked dumbly. 

     "I, er, that is,  _we_  were going to tell you," Leon replied, grimacing.  

     At that, Arthur's cheeks flushed and he spun around.  

     "I'm just, uh, gonna go," Leon mumbled.  

     "Yes, I think that'd be best." 

     Arthur did not care to repeat that experience.) 

     Morgana was more than a little drunk, and Arthur couldn't say he was doing much better.  

     "I'm glad," Morgana said, slurring her words a bit and poking Arthur in the shoulder, "that you and Merlin..." She trailed off, but a made a sort-of gesturing motion between them. "S'good." 

     Leon and Lance exchanged a look, as they were want to do when the rest of the group started talking to the ghost. It was strange, for them. They liked the idea of Merlin, but it was odd, knowing that they were in the same room as someone they'd never meet. Occasionally Arthur would translate for Merlin, but  it was still unsettling, speaking to the air. Arthur looked happy, though, and for that, both men were grateful.  

 

     Sometime later, when the entire group was a little more sober, and Gwen was yawning softly into her hand, Morgana announced that she and Leon would be retiring, that the rest of them could do as the pleased. Arthur saw the looks she shot Leon and the word 'retiring' and decided very quickly that it was time for he and Merlin to leave.  

 

     For a while they walked in silence, until Merlin turned towards Arthur and asked, "So what are we doing for actual Christmas day?" 

     Arthur liked when he did that, asked him about their future- even if that future was the next morning. He glanced at his watch, then showed it to Merlin. "I'd say we're doing it." He grinned. "Merry Christmas, Merlin." 

     Merlin hummed. "That it is." 

     They took the tube down a few stations, and, by the time they got off, snow had begun falling. A huge grin lit Merlin's face as he watched the fate flakes drift slowly to the ground, muting the already faint sounds of the city. Arthur, in turn, felt warmth pooling in his stomach as he drank in the wonder in Merlin's eyes. He thought that, if blood still pumped beneath Merlin's skin, his ridiculous ears would be bright red with the cold. He smiled.  _This_ , he thought,  _is perfect._ For everything that had happened, this moment was worth it.  

     Then, Merlin had to go and ruin it by tripping over abso-bloody-lutely nothing. He went careening towards Arthur, who instinctively stuck out his arms. He caught Merlin. He caught a ghost. A ghost whom he promptly dropped. 

     Merlin's eyes went wide. He scrambled back up. Arthur took a step backward, and then two steps forward.  

     "You..." Merlin whispered. He stuck out a hand, as if to touch Arthur's face, but then pulled it back.  

     "Did I- did I  _catch_ you?" Arthur asked, disbelief evident in his voice.  

     "No, you dropped me." It should have been wry, there should have been a sparkle in Merlin's eye. Instead, though, it was flat, near emotionless.  

     Arthur, always one to take the plunge, stuck his hand out and placed it gingerly on Merlin's chest, right over his heart. Merlin felt... solid. There. The ghost gasped. Arthur snapped his hand away. 

     "I'm- I'm sorry," he said, taking a step back. "I don't- understand?" He finished weakly.  

     "Arthur..." Merlin whispered, placing his hand where Arthur's had been. "Your hand was... warm." Had Merlin been able to produce tears, they surely would have been flowing down his cheeks at an alarming rate. "You- I can  _feel_  you." 

     Without warning, Merlin flung himself around Arthur, burying his face in the other man's neck. Arthur stiffened, for a moment, in surprise, then wrapped his arms around the ghosts back. He felt Merlin shaking and squeezed tighter.  

     Merlin whisper something into Arthur's neck.  

     "I can't hear you," Arthur replied softly.  

     Merlin pulled back, just enough to look into Arthur's eyes. "I said 'thank you', you clotpole." 

     Arthur pulled him back close and held tight. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter, but I'm a little behind, so I'm going to post it anyway. Hope it's alright!

     Merlin held Arthur's hand in a vice grip all the way home. Neither man said anything, but they exchanged glances every few minutes. When they reached the door to the flat, Arthur gently pried Merlin's fingers from his own. Merlin made a small distressed noise at the loss of contact, but still said nothing. Once he got the door open, Arthur grasped Merlin's wrist and pulled him inside, to the couch. 

     Arthur sat down and took a deep breath. He looked at Merlin. "What happened?" He asked, squeezing Merlin's wrist for emphasis.  

     Merlin sat too. "I don't- I can't-" Merlin expression was panicked, and his eyes darted around the room.  

     "Merlin," Arthur said softly, and then again, more sharply, when Merlin didn't look at him. Arthur cupped a hand around Merlin's cheek and leaned his forehead against the ghost's. "You're safe, Merlin, it's alright. We've just got to figure out what  _happened_." 

     It seemed as though the more contact Arthur maintained, the calmer Merlin became. The shaking in the ghost's hands stilled, and his eyes slipped closed. He sighed. "I don't know, Arthur. I don’t understand." 

     "We'll figure it out. Together." Arthur squeezed his wrist again.   

     "Okay," Merlin whispered.  

     "Okay," Arthur reaffirmed.  

 

     Arthur stayed up with Merlin well into the early hours of the morning. Neither said much, but Merlin pressed himself into Arthur's side, maintaining contact with him at all times. After a while, Arthur asked him why. 

     Merlin flinched a little and started to pull back, until Arthur caught his hand again. "It's alright," Arthur assured him, "I just... want to know." 

     Merlin settled back against him. "I didn't realized how  _cold_  I am. Touching you is like... like feeling the sun on my face for the first time, after being stuck underground for years." 

     Arthur watched Merlin's jaw work. He wanted to know more, but his eyelids disagreed. Merlin noticed him fighting to keep them open. 

     "You should sleep," the ghost said quietly.  

     "Don't wanna leave you alone," Arthur replied, suppressing a yawn.  

     "I'll still be here when you wake." 

     Arthur hummed and leaned farther into Merlin. He allowed his eyes to slip shut and fell asleep against the cool marble of Merlin's skin.  

 

     Arthur woke with a start, unsure of where he was or what had roused him. He shivered slightly, his bed cold in the morning air.  

     Actually. 

     This wasn't Arthur's bed. He pushed himself up, and looked around. His eye's met Merlin's, and suddenly he remember the events of the night before.  

     "Alright?" Merlin asked him softly. 

     "Yeah," Arthur whispered.  

     Then there was a knock at the door. The second, Arthur realized, as the first was what had woken him. He swung his legs off the couch and stood, unconsciously seeking out Merlin's hand as he did. The ghost allowed himself to be led to the door.  

     Arthur opened it and froze.  

     "Arthur," Uther greeted coolly.  

     "Uther," he returned, in much the same tone of voice. Merlin squeezed his hand.  

     "Aren't you going to invite me in?" The older man sneered.  

     "No," Arthur replied shortly, roboticly.  

     "Arthur, I'm here to help you." 

     "Are you?" 

     "I've come to realize that your actions were not your own, son. I've come to bring you home." 

     "Don't call me that," Arthur said, looking away from his father.  

     Uther's eyes narrowed. "It's Christmas, Arthur, so I'm willing to overlook this... indiscretion. But you must come with me." 

     Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin's hand, and looked at him briefly for support. 

     "I'm with you," the ghost said quietly.  

     "I think it's time for you to leave, fa-  _Uther_ _._ " 

     "How  _dare-_ " Uther began, but he stopped short when his eyes landed on Arthur's hand, apparently wrapped around the air. "You've one of those  _things_  here," he accused.  

     "Get out," Arthur said mechanically. He pulled Merlin closer to him.  

     "It's controlling you, Arthur!" Uther roared.  

     "Goodbye."  

     Arthur placed a hand in the center of Uther's chest and gently pushed him back. In his surprise, Uther allowed it.  

     "If you ignore this,  _me_ , now," Uther said, "you will  _never_  be welcome in my presence again." 

     "You've made that abundantly clear." Arthur shut the door. He turned away, and his stony façade crumbled.  

     Merlin cupped Arthur's face with his hand and gently swept his thumb across the other man's cheek. "Arthur," he whispered.  

     Arthur rested his forehead on Merlin's and squeezed his eyes shut. "I still don't hate him," Arthur said harshly. "Why don't I hate him, Merlin?" 

     "Because you're a good man, Arthur." 

     They stood like that for awhile, until Arthur's breathing evened out and his pulse settled. If his eyes were a little red, well, Merlin wouldn't mention it.  

     "Merlin," Arthur began softly.  

     "Yeah?" The ghost replied.  

     "We need to figure out what's going on." 

     Merlin frowned a little, then sighed. "You're right." 

     "I usually am," Arthur replied, with a hint of his usual pratt-y-ness. It made Merlin smile.  

     "Well, what do you suggest, oh Great All Knowing One?" 

     Arthur snorted and buried his head in Merlin's shoulder. It amazed him how easily these touches came. It had never been like this before; all of Arthur's relationships to date, both romantic and platonic, had been stiff, stilted. With Merlin though, with the ghost he hadn't even been able  _to_  touch until the night before, he felt as though he'd been doing it his entire life. It felt right.  

     Merlin poked him. "You still here?" He asked, grinning.  

     "Yeah, yeah," Arthur replied. "I was thinking... I know someone who might be able to help. An old family friend. I'm fairly certain he's a Seer." He lifted his head to look Merlin in the eye.  

     The ghost nodded. "I trust you," he said, and Arthur felt in his bones that it was true.  

 

     Arthur rushed around, grabbing what he needed to bring with him. He went to grab a gift for his old friend, then remembered the small, wrapped parcel secreted in his nightstand. He pulled it carefully from its hiding place, then, holding it behind his back, strode out into the living room.  

     "Ready to go then?" Merlin asked. He looked slightly agitated, opening and closing his hand as if missing something.  

     "Not quite," Arthur said, suppressing a grin.  

     "What then?" The ghost sounded impatient. 

     Arthur pulled the gift from behind his back. "I, uh-" He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly, inexplicably, nervous. "I got you a gift. For Christmas?" 

     "You..?" 

     Arthur held it out. "I just uh, wanted to, I don't know-" 

     Merlin cut Arthur off by throwing himself at the other man, and wrapping him in a hug.  

     Arthur laughed. "You haven't even seen it yet. Maybe it's rubbish." 

     Merlin pulled back, an ear-splitting grin on his face. "Arthur, whatever it is, it's perfect." 

     "So I guess I'll, uh, open it for you?" 

     Merlin took a step back and nodded eagerly. Arthur took his time, carefully removing each piece of tape, delighting in the way Merlin silently squirmed. Finally, he removed the paper, and held the object out for Merlin to inspect.  

     "It's fantastic!" The ghost exclaimed. "Also, what is it?" 

     "It's an electronic picture frame. I took pictures of all the pages of a book and loaded them on. I don't really know what you do at night, but I figured you must get bored, so I thought..." Arthur trailed off at the sight of Merlin, who looked like he was about to burst into tears. "It's bad isn't it. I knew it was a bad idea, I just wanted to do something nice for you and-" 

     "It's brilliant, Arthur, it's- it might be the most thoughtful thing anyone's ever given me. Thank you." Merlin hugged Arthur again, this time slowly, almost reverently. "Do you know," the ghost whispered, "I haven't gotten a Christmas gift- or any gift, for that matter- since the day I died." 

     Arthur didn't know what to say to that, so he just held his ghost, pouring all of the promises he couldn't say aloud into the tightness of his arms.  

 

     Some time later, both men stood in front an older looking house, just outside the city. Merlin, who'd been chatty ever since receiving his gift, had gone strangely quiet at the sight of the place.  

     "Alright?" Arthur asked, placing his hand over the ghost's.  

     "Yeah- yeah. I just... something about this place is familiar, but I can't put my finger on it." 

     Arthur gripped Merlin's fingers. "You're safe with me."  

     The ghost smiled. "I know that," he said softly.  

     With that, Arthur knocked on the old wooden door. A few moments later, it swung open.  

     "Arthur? What brings you- Merlin?" The old man asked in disbelief. 

     "Gaius?" The ghost replied, equally surprised. 

     Arthur looked between the two. "Right, well, I think we've got some catching up to do."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that wanted to know a little more about Merlin's past...

     Arthur itched under Gaius’s stare. His first instinct was to let go of Merlin's hand, to sit up straighter and wipe any emotion from his face. He knew what the contact meant to the ghost, though, so he kept hold. And, to his surprise (though perhaps by now it shouldn't have been surprising at all), the casual intimacy brought Arthur some comfort as well.  

     Arthur swallowed, throat inexplicably dry. He looked between Merlin and Gaius. "So you, uh, know each other, then?" 

     Merlin kept his eyes on the older man, but addressed Arthur. "Gaius was a Seer before the Shift. The first Seer I ever met, apart from myself." 

     This was news to Arthur. "Wait, there were Seers before the Shift?  _You_ were a Seer?" He wasn't even sure who he was addressing. 

     "Arthur, that's common knowledge," Gaius said disapprovingly. 

     "Gwen knew," Merlin chimed in.  

     Arthur turned to him. "About...?" 

     "Seers before the Shift. Remember Mark Twain?" 

     Arthur blew out a short breath. After a moment, he asked, "And you were a Seer?" 

     "When I was alive," Merlin shrugged. "Or, I suppose I still am. I don't really know." 

     Then Gaius spoke. "Given your woefully inadequate education-" 

     Arthur looked as though he was about to protest, until Gaius shot him The Eyebrow. 

     He continued, "-I suppose it's worth mentioning that it's incredibly unusual for a Seer to become a ghost. I've seen it a few times, since the Shift, but when Merlin died, it was unheard of." 

     Arthur flinched a little, at the word 'died'. He didn't like to think about Merlin dying, though he knew that, to be a ghost, he must have. The idea of Merlin, unmoving, eyes glazed over was unthinkable.  

     "This, however," Gaius said, gesturing between the two men, "is beyond unheard of. It should be impossible." 

     "Right, well," Arthur said, looking around the room nervously. "That's why we've come to see you." 

     Gaius sighed. "I suppose you'd better start from the beginning, then. I know you don't like talking about it," the old Seer said to Merlin, "but I think you need to tell us-  _Arthur-_ about your death." 

     Merlin looked as though he was going to be sick.  

 

     "I've told you before that I don't remember many of the sensations of being alive," Merlin began, clutching tightly to Arthur's hand. "But I remember dying. It was- I-" 

     The ghost hesitated. "Merlin, you don't have to-" 

     "I think I do." 

     Arthur squeezed his hand. "Okay," he whispered.  

     "I was twenty. I'd been able to see the ghosts for my entire life, and I-" he looked to Arthur for comfort, "-I was afraid of them. It was 1894, and the word 'schizophrenia' wouldn't exist for another fifteen years or so, but the term 'dementia praecox' was floating around, and I was afraid I was mad." 

     Arthur sat quietly, but his mind turned all the information he was being given over and over. He  _knew_  Merlin had died a long time ago,  _knew_ he been floating around in this version of purgatory since before Arthur's father was born, knew all these things but still, somehow, was drowning in the details.  

     "I was actually a bit relieved, when I died, after I'd figured out what had happened. At least I was sane. Dying though..." Merlin trailed off and stared miserably at his hands.  

     Arthur could have sworn Merlin had gone even more pale, though he knew that wasn't possible; knew that there was no blood flow to be constricted beneath Merlin's fragile-looking skin. 

     Merlin looked back up at Arthur. "The thing is," he said slowly, "I don't know how I died." 

     The Seer looked at him, bewildered. "How can you not know that? It's kind of a big thing to have missed!" 

     Gaius tutted at him and gestured that Merlin should continue. 

     Merlin gulped, then continued. "I was walking, through the park, incidentally-" and Arthur knew exactly which park he spoke of "-and I suddenly felt pain, like I'd never felt before. It was as if every nerve was on fire, like someone had poured lava down my throat. And then it was cold, ice beginning in my fingers and toes and clawing its way straight to my heart. I felt an incredible pull, from all directions, as if the hand of God had come down and decided to take me apart, molecule by molecule, and suddenly I was looking down at my own body. It-  _I_ - was still on the cobblestones, eyes wide, and then these spindly black veins creeped out from underneath my collar, towards my face. When the veins reached my eyes, they went completely black. After that, I don't remember the next few days.  

     "When I finally regained some of my senses, and figured out a bit of what had happened, I went to the coroner's office, to try to figure out how I died. I waited around there for a week, but the closest thing I got to an answer was my death certificate, which listed cause unknown." 

     Arthur felt the bile rising in his throat at Merlin's description. He couldn't- the agony Merlin described was unbearable, even to imagine, and Arthur couldn't figure out how to reconcile the happy-go-lucky man he knew with so much pain and unsolved mystery. 

     "Then I went to see my Mum. That was... difficult. She looked as though she'd aged a thousand years in less than two weeks. Will wasn't much better. I felt so guilty being around them, guilty that'd I'd caused them so much grief, that I left. I sought out other ghosts, in search of someone with a story like mine.  

     "The thing about ghosts, before the Shift, was that most of them were unable to cope with their deaths. They became obsessive about moving on, but with Seers near impossible to find, they had no way of interacting with the world. They became stuck in patterns, trying to finish their last task. They went insane, until finally fading when whoever kept them tied to the world died. There were some to whom that didn't happen, people who simply had to wait until a loved one mourned and moved on, or those who just had to watch over their families. A few simply didn't care, and used the opportunity to see things they never had- the recently deceased did that especially. But there were none like me.  

     "Everyone knew their unfinished business, and how they'd died. A girl I met once, Freya, told me it was like a flash of clarity, right after you died, that told you everything you needed to know. People who died of diseases that wouldn't even be identified for another fifty years  _knew_. And I didn't. So I wandered and did everything in my power to keep from going insane. And now I'm here." 

     Arthur knew that the expression on his face must be something akin to horror, and knew that his grip on the ghost's hand had slackened. "Merlin..." He whispered.  

     The ghost looked away. "Don't," he said harshly. "I've had enough sympathy to last a lifetime. Several, in fact." He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound, none of the delight Arthur had come to associate with his ghost. It was like hearing the terrible shriek of metal being torn apart. He wanted nothing more than to pull Merlin into a hug, but was unsure if the gesture would be welcomed. Instead, he threaded his fingers back through Merlin's and squeezed. To his relief, the ghost squeezed back, ever so slightly.  

     "And what did you feel when you first touched Arthur?" Gaius asked, uncharacteristically quiet.  

     Merlin's face softened at the question. "It was a bit like getting hit by a truck, actually," he replied, flashing a brief, but encouragingly wry grin at Arthur. "And then it was  _warm_. I'd forgotten..." 

     "Are you warm when you aren't touching him?" 

     "No," Merlin answered quickly, shaking his head. Then he seemed to reconsider. "Well, actually," he said, raking a hand through his hair, "I'm not warm, exactly, but I am less cold. It's like it takes longer, for all of the heat to leech away." 

     Gaius hummed thoughtfully, then stood and left the room.  

     Arthur locked eyes with Merlin. "Are you okay?" He asked.  

     Merlin hesitated a moment. "No," he admitted. "But I will be."  _As long as I've got you_ , he didn't add. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fair warning, ya'll, I'm traveling tomorrow and through the weekend. I don't think it will impact my update schedule, but just know that, if it does, I'll be doing my best to get back on track whilst not neglecting my family when I'm home. Hope you enjoyed this update!


	11. Chapter 11

     After a great deal of time had passed, so much so that Arthur began to wonder if they should leave, Gaius returned to the room carrying six large tomes, four of which looked as though they hadn't been opened in several hundred years. Gaius set them carefully on the coffee table before lowering himself into his high-backed arm chair. He looked at the men in front of him before sighing softly.  

     "Merlin," he began slowly, leaning forward, "I'd like to try something." 

     The ghost nodded, indicating that Gaius should continue.  

     "I'd like to try to touch you, if I may." 

     Merlin looked shocked. Arthur, for the life of him, couldn't figure out why it hadn't occurred to him to see if Merlin could touch anyone else. He supposed it was because of how  _normal_  everything else had seemed. Passers-by still gave Arthur strange looks when he spoke to Merlin in public, and the ghost still couldn't move an inanimate object.  

     "O-okay," Merlin replied. He stuck out the hand not squeezing Arthur's. Arthur noticed it was shaking, ever so slightly, and stroked his thumb across Merlin's wrist.  

     Gaius tentatively placed his hand onto Merlin's; or rather, he tried to. He passed through the ghost as easily as he would through fog. Merlin shivered with discomfort.  

     "It is as I suspected," Gaius said, pulling the third book from his pile and tipping it open to a marked page. He directed the book at Merlin and Arthur. "I believe you have somehow been bound together. To my knowledge, this has never before occurred, but there have long been whispers. There is a passage on souls, in an ancient Druidic text, that may hold a few of the answers that you're looking for." 

     Arthur look at the pages Gaius proffered. In the upper left hand corner, there was a crude drawing of two people, one in full color, and one drawn in pale blue. Beneath it was text in a language that Arthur couldn't read. He looked up and said as much.  

     "It says that I've done something. Bound my soul to yours. I don't know how." Merlin looked at Arthur, the guilt swimming in his irises plain to see.  

     "You misread, dear boy," Gaius said softly. "It says that some souls are irrevocably bound, that neither time nor death should separate them. If you two are such souls... I doubt either of you could have caused or prevented this bond. I suppose that the only question now, is what you intend to do about it." 

 

 

     Merlin stared out the window, eyes fixed on the horizon. The thought that the ghost looked beautiful when he was like this came unbidden to Arthur's mind, and he couldn't find it in himself to pretend that he didn’t think it so. He thought about going straight home, but somehow that felt wrong. Instead, Arthur drove, taking random turns until they were outside the city and amongst rolling green hills that made him nostalgic for something he'd never had.  

     At some point, Arthur's hand had migrated from the gear shift to Merlin's thigh, where the ghost absently played with his fingers. Arthur smiled. He didn't know what to make of the book, of their circumstances, or of whatever the feeling bubbling in his chest might be. He didn’t know any of that, but he knew that this moment felt  _right_.  

     Merlin glanced at him. "What?" He asked, twining his fingers into Arthur's. 

     "Nothing," the other man replied, shaking his head softly. "S'just a nice day." 

     Merlin looked doubtfully at the dark gray clouds that spoke of imminent rain.  

     "Nice company," Arthur amended.  

     Merlin squeezed his hand then shut his eyes and tipped his head back. "That it is," he replied, so softly that Arthur wasn't positive he hadn't imagined the ghost's words.  

     They sat in silence for awhile, Arthur focusing on the kilometers melting beneath his tires, Merlin learning the lines of Arthur's hand with his own, right up until Arthur realized where they were going. He huffed out a soft breath and tapped Merlin's knee. 

     Merlin opened one eye and fixed Arthur with his stare.  

     "We're almost there," he said, suppressing a grin.  

     "I didn't realized we we're going somewhere," the replied, opening his other eye. 

     "Nor did I." 

 

     "Stonehenge?" 

     "Stonehenge." 

     "Arthur, what are we doing here?" 

     Arthur shook his head and laughed. "I don't know – I didn't even realize I knew how to get here. Father took Morgana and I once, a very long time ago."  

     Merlin squeezed his hand slightly. "Let's look around, yeah?" 

     Arthur smiled gratefully at him. "Yeah," he answered breathlessly.  

 

     Merlin looked over Arthur's shoulder at the brochure he'd found on the ground. "It says they're five  _thousand_  years old," he whispered in awe.  

     Arthur bumped against him. "Makes a hundred and forty seem like no time at all," he murmured.  

     Merlin smiled and hummed in agreement.  

     "It says here you built it," Arthur joked, point at another passage.  

     The ghost stared at him quizzically. 

     "Merlin," Arthur explained, "the wizard." He wiggled his fingers dramatically. "According to Geoffery of Monmouth, he stole it from Ireland." 

     Merlin collapsed into giggles, and, after a moment, Arthur joined him. They stayed there the rest of the afternoon, wandering in circles around the monument, until thunder cracked and the sky broke loose, forcing them to seek shelter in the car.  

     "Thank you for this," Merlin said, grinning at Arthur like he'd hung the moon. 

     "Thank you," Arthur replied, once again reaching for Merlin's hand. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he'd ever be able to let it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a short little chapter to finish up that last seen, and maybe do something cute-ish. I'm a little behind in my actual real world work at the moment, and a bit behind on this, so here's what I'm gonna do: instead of the next Sunday and Tuesday updates, I'm going to post a Wednesday update (that being the day after most of my work is due). Then, as I have an interview on Saturday, I'm going to skip the Friday update. I'll return to the regular schedule the following Sunday. Hopefully by then, I will have gotten a chapter or two ahead, so that I don't accidentally write myself into any corners. Thank you for your understanding, and I hope you enjoyed this (slightly late) chapter!


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